


Damsels In Distress

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:59:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: For Garrison and the guys, well, they were getting used to putting themselves at high risk.  Now, this time it had become intensely personal.  After all, of all the roles the highly capable Lynn Garrison and Meghada O'Donnell had played in their efforts on behalf of the Allied Forces, 'damsels in distress' wasn't one of their more frequent ones.When a mission goes doubly wrong, Major Kevin Richards join with the team, disobeying direct orders, risking his future along with his life to retrieve those HQ had decided to abandon.





	Damsels In Distress

She hadn't come home from that last assignment and the Cottage was empty. He'd not been happy that she'd agreed to go, what with her contract being finished, but something about what Major Richards had told her, well, she'd said it was necessary, and so she left. That was all he knew.

Goniff was pacing the floor to Craig's office, "she thought she'd be back two weeks ago; four weeks total, she said, no more; well, these things can take longer, it's 'appened to us more than once, but never this long. I've kept things up at the cottage, what I know to, anyways, but there's things I DON'T know about, the garden's totally out of 'and, not that that matters so much, she's bound to expect that, but not knowing where she is, if she's alright, . . ."

Craig watched from his place behind the desk, wanting to help, not knowing how. He knew how important the young woman was to his pickpocket; well, she'd been a friend to all of them, in more ways than he could even list right now, but to this slender man occupying his office, well, she was much more than a friend. The fact that she'd been able to recognize an imposter they hadn't, had been able to track him in ways Garrison didn't even want to think about, well that showed the closeness.

Garrison was concerned too; he knew she wouldn't let Goniff worry like this if she had a way of getting word to him. He'd ask Lynn if she could find out anything, but she was somewhere on assignment too, had been for over six weeks now, but she'd expected that, could tell him that much. "Might be as much as two months, Craig, so try not to worry if you don't hear from me." He rarely knew where Lynn was being sent, what she was sent to do, and he really would have preferred she wasn't part of all of this, but couldn't argue her right to do the job she had chosen. Well, other than the right being her brother gave him, which she'd told him on more than one occasion was no right at all. He pulled his mind back to the blond Englishman wearing a track in his carpet.

"Tell you what. Let me call Major Richards, see if he has any information. I don't know if he'll talk to me about it, but I'll try," seeing the anxious gratitude in those pale blue eyes.

"You'll let me know?"

"Yes, just as soon as I get in touch with him, I promise. Now, head out to the target range; Sergeant Major is probably having kittens wondering where you are," eliciting a quick, though obviously not sincere grin.

Garrison picked up the phone, "Major Richards, please. Lieutenant Garrison, here; I need to speak with him." When the very uptight British Major came on the line, Garrison explained their concern and his request for any information available.

There was silence, "Garrison, your concern is most touching, I'm sure, but assignments, where agents are sent, even co-opted ones like with her now, what they are doing is . . ."

"Yes, I know, they are on a Need To Know basis. What do I have to say to convince you we have a Need To Know?"

"Nothing," and the phone went dead. Garrison cursed and tried to think of who else might help. He got a call from HQ with another question on their last debriefing, he'd just about decided to call in a favor he'd almost forgotten about, and the phone rang.

"Garrison here," and there was silence, and then -

"Meet me at the Lamplighter in Bridgestone, 2 o'clock," and the phone went dead.

{"Richards? Sounds like his voice, but that was more than odd."} Garrison frowned, looked at his watch. Bridgestone, 2 o'clock, would mean he'd have to leave within the next half hour anyway. He made his way to the firing range, called to the Sergeant Major.

Casino watched as the two talked, "wonder what the heck that's about?"

"Goniff, you were in talking to the Warden for quite awhile; want to tell us what about?" Actor asked, eyeing the officer and the noncom carefully. When he didn't get a reply, he turned to their pickpocket to see him watching as well.

"Goniff?" and received a sharp turn of the head, as if only now did he realized he was being spoken to.

The Englishman gulped, "asked if 'e could find out anything about Meghada; two weeks overdue she is, with no word. 'E was gonna try and find out something from Major Richards or some of the others."

The Sergeant Major was striding back over the browning grass, "alright you lot of shirkers; I want to see a better round than I did last time. Yes, I know you 'it the target, Goniff, and if we can just convince Jerry to stand still w'ile you talk yourself into keepin your eyes open when you pull that trigger, you'll be all set. But since we can't count on that . . . " 

Garrison pulled into the lot in back of the Lamplighter right on time; he'd had to break a speed limit or two to make up for that farm equipment blocking the road down around Delincourt, but he'd made it. He walked into the cool dark pub, looking around til he saw Major Richards in a back table, facing the door. He picked up a pint at the bar and walked over, sat down. There was something about the look on the officer's face that made the hair on the back of his neck come to attention. He sat down, put the glass on the table with an audible thunk.

"Major."

"Garrison." Silence.

"Major, just what. . ."

"No, be quiet, let me think," came the surprising response. Finally, a deep sigh.

"No one else at HQ would have considered telling you any of this. No one would have thought you had a right to know, and yes, when you hear what I have to say, you'll tell me that's bloody ridiculous, but that's how HQ tends to think, you know." He stopped, took a long drink from his glass, and his bleak silvery-grey eyes looked straight into Garrison's green ones.

"We've lost track of them, both of them," and Garrison's blood ran cold.

"Them?" knowing what he was going to hear.

"They were working two ends of the same assignment, Lynn, Meghada. That's the only reason she agreed to go, you know, that Lynn was working the same job; she didn't like the Handler on Lynn's side, told me he was a thick-skulled idiot. Wasn't much I could do about it, though; higher ups think he's just fine; I offered to take over, both sides, but was told to mind my own affairs. Lynn stopped making contact almost a week ago."

"The Handler, and no I will not give you his name, pulled the plug; instructed Meghada to come home. He made his mistake, if you want to call it that, by telling her why, that Lynn had broken contact and there had been no word or sight of her since the Geilsvladen Underground reported in, and they were scrubbing the mission. You know her, she conned him into giving her everything he knew, pretty much without him realizing it, then, she was gone. He realized after the fact; bloody fool put a recommendation in her file that, if she returns, she is to be severely reprimanded! I've tried contacting Wagner, he's in charge of the Geilsvladen group; he has information, but won't give it except in person."

"In person? To whom?"

"To me. I'm the only one he knows personally; he went to school with my sister; his name wasn't always Wagner. Don't think he trusts much of anyone anymore, and can't say I blame him."

"And you're going in?" to get a furious look.

"Bloody right I'm going in, somehow! It's the 'somehow' that I'm boxed on." A frustrated hand swept through that dark hair now lightly streaked with silver.

"Been ordered to keep my nose out of it, no team will be released to me, no transportation provided. When I tried to arrange that on my own, had my ears handed to me by some snot nose youngster basically telling me to tend to my knitting, 'speaking on behalf of those who wish their names not to be involved in something that's obviously gone on the fritz'." The snarl that accompanied that was rather impressive, made Garrison think of Meghada again.

"What is Geilsvladen close to? Anything that would be a strategic target for my team? No, better not make it my team, at least not up front, someone up there might be actually smart enough to connect the names or the Brandonshire base locations. What about Henderson's team? He has a six-man team with similar enough skills. Anything?" and Richards frowned, thinking.

"Yes, actually. We've had our eye on a research facility about fifty miles away, thinking to try and get the plans for that new tank they're considering."

And Garrison gave an icy smile, "great. Get Henderson's team assigned to that, that will leave a spot so you can 'decide to go along at the last minute', once it's switched over to us; I'll get transportation lined up for US. Be sure to have all the intel to give me, too."

Richards gave him a considering look, "and what about Henderson?"

"Don't worry about Henderson; I'll take care of him. Just get me word."

"But how? I imagine they'll be watching me for anything like that; I'm not exactly on their 'most trusted' list right now; gave the Handler a bit too much grief, I'm afraid."

"Don't worry. Get the information, get it set up. When you have it, call this number," scribbling a number on a piece of paper and handing it over; "doesn't matter what you say, any sort of nonsense that won't get the wind up with anyone who might be listening; just identify yourself as Kevin. If it's a woman, you could flirt a bit; hell, if it's a MAN, you could flirt a bit for all I care," getting a dark scowl from Richards. "Then, three hours later, go to the tobacco shop at Chelsea and Boroughes. Walk in the front door, straight out the back; there'll be a car waiting for you. Don't expect to be coming back anytime soon, Major. We're taking a road trip!"

Richards stared at this man, one he had once distrusted, even pitied for the duty he'd been assigned, the men he had to work with, and nodded.

"Yes, of course."

Garrison took a side trip, stopped by a pharmacy in Westbridge to pick up some aspirin, made a phone call from there, and soon he was being shown into a back room to meet Patrick, Meghada's brother. The nice thing about the pharmacy was that it backed up to the small private hospital Patrick was helping at. A quick explanation, a few choice curses, all of which Garrison agreed with totally, and promise of transportation whenever it was needed; transportation, supplies, money, whatever. Patrick offered a team, but admitted it would take awhile to get it together; seems there was another big flap and all available Clan in the immediate area were on the go, but was assured manpower was already in place. Plans were quickly made. From there, Garrison headed home, aspirin and bandages and assorted other things to justify his stop, if he was called upon to do so. Paranoid he may be; paranoia wasn't necessarily a bad thing if it helped you pull a con. And with his guys, medical supplies were always in demand.

He pulled back through the gates early evening; luckily it was still barely light.

"Ok, guys. We're gonna take a little run," which was met with dropped jaws and disbelief.

"Warden, come on! Give us a ruddy break! The Sergeant Major kept us at it til supper time; we're bushed!"

He walked over to the little Englishman, and gave him a look, and in a very low voice, "too tired to talk about what we discussed before?" to suddenly find the entire room alert. 

"Well, what're we waitin for? Let's get this over with," Chief said, with just that tiny hint of a smile he got when he was reading Garrison's mind. They all replaced whatever items of clothing they'd removed to relax, and followed him out onto the track.

The Sergeant Major watched them, a worried frown on his face. Private Perkins was beside him, "what's gotten into him, Sir? No time to be wandering around, gonna be dark soon."

"Private, the things they get up to over there, don't imagine it's all in bright sunshine; probably need to practice something special. Not to worry, they'll be back when they're finished." The two went back into the Mansion, the Sergeant Major pausing at the door to see the line of men headed out to the running trail.

"Alright, here's the story." And he laid it out for them; not just Meghada but Lynn; Richards needing to be the contact, HQ cutting him off at the knees.

"So, that's what I set up. So, how do we cut Henderson out of the loop?"

"We can not count on him helping on his own?"

"No, HQ is too suspicious of the teams as it is; we can't put him in that position."

Actor asked, "and us?" seeing the looks being given him, he gave them a rueful smile, "I'm not saying we don't DO it, of course we do; I'm just asking what we do AFTER we get them back."

"And that's a legitimate question, and one I unfortunately don't have the answer for, not yet."

He looked around, "this one's strictly on a volunteer basis, guys; all I ask is that anyone . . ." to give a grin at the outraged responses from every one of his guys. Lynn and Meghada, they were important to each of them too. The look on the English pickpocket's face, well, somehow that amiable mischief-maker looked almost dangerous in the dimming light.

{"No,"} thought Garrison, {"scratch the 'almost'"}. He knew the man loved both of the young women, in very different ways, yes, but he loved them both, Garrison had no doubt of that. Garrison thought about the look he'd just seen, and something tugged at him, something stirred, and he shook his head abruptly, bringing himself to the job at hand, away from wherever his mind, his heart was headed. He thought to himself, {"maybe I just need a good night's sleep,"} and went ahead with the briefing.

The call came from Ruby Jenkins, supposedly, Private Jenkins's sister, asking the Sergeant Major to tell her brother everything was in place for the anniversary celebration, and she hoped he'd be able to get leave. The noncom had been expecting this call; he and the Lieutenant had an understanding.

Well, he didn't always UNDERSTAND, but they did have an understanding, if that made any sense, and sometimes he thought it did, and sometimes he thought it didn't. He was still coming to grips with his alliances, well, not changing, of course, just broadening you might say, and sometimes that took a bit of manoeuvering, along with being more flexible in his thinking. He'd sit and figure it all out after the war, when he had time for such, that was what he kept telling himself.

He moved to the office door, "sir, I'd like to give Private Jenkins a spot of leave, if you've no objection. Seems there's a family celebration he's being asked to attend," with no expression on his face other than what might be expected.

The look on Garrison's face was fierce, eager. "Yes, of course, as you like. Where are the men?"

"Up above, I believe."

"Tell them to get it together, double time; let's see how they do with an Emergency Drill!" and the Sergeant Major hastened up the steps to the common room, sticking his head in to see four heads snap around to look at him intently.

"Emergency Drill, he says. Departure ten minutes, two groups. Get a move on now, lads!" His homely face was just as intent as theirs, and they could see he really wanted to come with them, but since he couldn't, he would do everything he could to make it all run smoothly from this end. They tumbled out to get their packs, each receiving a hand to the shoulder from the noncom as they passed.

Ten minutes later, as he stood in the drive watching the two jeeps pull out, he whispered, under his voice, "bring them back, and come back safely yourselves, lads."

Private Perkins had moved up beside him, "what's that, sir?"

"Nothing, son, just clearing my throat; this night air, you know," turned and went back into the Mansion. He kept watching the time, and precisely when he should, he picked up the phone, "Lieutenant Henderson, please. Yes, an urgent message, most urgent!"

Major Kevin Richards, British Army, heavily decorated, highly respected, uptight, dependable, strictly by-the-book career military man that he was, laid down the phone. When the young woman had answered the phone, he'd been his charming best, laid on a date with her next Saturday for drinks at Bristols, 7pm. {"Actually, she seemed rather pleasant; wouldn't mind keeping that date,"} he mused to himself as he continued with his work, wondering if he would be back by Saturday, if he would be alive by Saturday. At precisely 3 hours minus fifteen minutes, he straightened his jacket and strode out of his office.

"Be out for awhile, Private. If I'm not back by time for you to close up, go on ahead; just lock up my office and I'll unlock it when I get back. I've secured everything inside. Thanks," and with his customary brisk nod, walked out, walked away, perhaps from his entire career if this went wrong. Considering HQ, maybe even if it all went right!

He remembered young Coura once telling him the military was obviously the right place for him, since it was a place where his owners had even less of a sense of humor, a sense of the absurd than HE had. Well, he might agree with that, but he thought she would certainly approve of his sense of the absurd now, in HIM undertaking this 'mission', against the direct order of his owners. That designation, 'owners', brought a frown to his face, so he left the thought on the table for later review. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he would have enough on that 'table' to occupy his mind for the first full year after the war.

The tobacco shop was well within the ten minutes he had left when he got to street level, so he stopped and got a newspaper, checked the prices in the jewelry store window and the florists shop next door, chuckling at the large black metal ant used as part of the display, and precisely three hours after that phone call ended, walked into and out of the small shop smelling of pipe tobacco. The closed car was waiting at the back, a solemn Chief at the wheel, a broadly grinning Casino riding shotgun.

"Hop on in, Major; let's get this show on the road." He did so, and realizing he was alone in the back seat, except for that small black and white dog of Meghada's. The two looked at each other appraisingly, as if wondering just what the other was doing there. Richards decided not to ask, half afraid he'd get an answer from his companion, but he did ask of the two in the front seat, "where are the others? Where's Garrison?"

"Don't worry; they're handling a few details. We'll be meetin them soon. Just sit back and relax. Hey, Major, WHAT did you say that guy's name was, the other Handler on this job?" Casino asked in a very casual tone, and Richards met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Nice try, not a go, but nice try. Maybe later?" to receive a rather vicious grin in return.

"Yeah, I'd like that, later."<>p>

"So would I, Casino, so would I!" Richards had lost a few agents, well anyone in this line did, of course; but he hoped he'd never been as offhand, as dismissive about it as Major Fielding had been in discussing first Lynn Garrison and then the Dragon.

When they all met up, it was on a tiny airstrip outside Carlington. A small plane was waiting, small enough Richards was a little nervous about all of them flying in it. The pilot knew quite well what he was thinking.

"Don't worry, Major; this lassie," patting the airplane, "yes, she's perfectly safe; well, as long as no one shoots us down, that is. She's well up to your weight, all of you," smiling down, "including yours, Max." The small dog wagged his tail, as if appreciating the reassurance.

Garrison motioned his team on board, then Richards and followed to snug the door and they took off.

<>p>"Alright, first, the intel on the mission you had in place for Henderson." And he listened and nodded, "seems pretty straightforward."

"Well, I didn't think you'd want anything too complicated, not if it's going to be a secondary." Garrison lifted his brows, and his team snickered.

"Yeah, Warden, go ahead and try to convince everyone you ain't gonna try to pull off both, gettin the girls back AND hittin that research place!" And he grinned sheepishly and they all laughed at him, Richards included.

"Well, gentlemen, I sincerely hope we CAN pull off both; that research facility is our alibi, you know. We came to handle that and just sort of came across the women while we were at it. Not that too many will believe it, most likely, but it might pass well enough to keep our heads off the block, and if we come back with the goods, that will improve our chances. Now, how do we GET the girls back?"

"First, Major, you, we make contact with your sister's old classmate."

Then Richards just had to ask, "and is the dog coming with us?" to be slightly dismayed by the firm, "yes, Max is coming with us!"

***  
"Shit! . . . Shit! Shit! Shit!" Yes, Lynn thought it worth repeating, and she'd probably say it a few more times before she got out of here. She'd known this was a dangerous mission, but her credentials were solid, her background information impecable, and the con was in play. She'd arranged the 'accidental meeting', made her way into their circle, flattered, charmed, had been her most gracious and elegant best. When the invitation finally came, her hosts had truly thought it to be their idea. She'd been a guest in this house long enough to find out what she needed to, and everything was in place to make her move, and now! This shouldn't be happening, but there, big as life, was the woman she was supposed to be impersonating. She'd been assured that was not a possibility; that Madame LeMare was in a Swiss Rejuvenation Clinic getting something or other done to some unknown part of her body, and wouldn't be back for at least another four or five weeks. Yet, there she was, standing there dressed in a long shimmery evening gown of creamy ivory. {"While I am standing here in a long silky gown in dark blue. That makes it real easy to convince someone they only thought they saw her in the hallway when here she is over by the piano. Right! Shit!"}

Luckily she was near the side French doors, and was able to ease them open and make her way outside. {"Now what?"} She took a deep breath, looked around, and there he stood, a pigeon if she ever saw one. The approach to the half drunk officer, the sweet tempting suggestion, and off they were across the lawn, to where he summoned his driver with an imperious wave of his hand, marred only by the way he was swaying. She knew this was dangerous as well, getting into a staff car with two German soldiers, but a firing squad was waiting for her back at the villa, so she took the chance. On the outskirts of the town, she thought about her next move. She looked at the officer carefully; drunk alright, more than she'd thought earlier. In fact, a bit green around the gills, which might serve quite well. She waited til there were more shops, more houses.

She banged on the window separating the driver. "Stop! Quickly, he's going to be sick!" and the driver slammed the car to a halt and ran around to open the door, and sure enough, there he spewed, and her window of opportunity gaped wide just for a few seconds.

"Fool! Imbecile! You have ruined my dress! Idiot! I never want to see you again. Driver, take that, that . . . Oh, just take him him home and dump him in his bed! No, I don't need or want anything from him or from you, just get him out of my sight," and she stomped off.

The driver shrugged, {"now she's going to ruin her shoes ALONG with her dress!"} hauled his 'superior' back into the car and drove him home. {"An opportunity like that, beautiful woman, car at your disposal, your own quarters, and he throws it all away. She was right, he is a fool!"}

She stole clothes from a small store, blessing Goniff for teaching her how to manage that. She would have liked to leave the fine dress behind in payment, but that would leave a trail, and besides, it wasn't exactly in pristine condition after the little episode with the drunk officer, so she stuffed it to the bottom of a trash bin, putting other things over it. Then, a car, this time thanking Chief for teaching her how to hotwire such.

The delay had meant she'd not made her last check-in, and might possibly not make this one. Her Handler would be pissed; he was one of those who rarely, if ever, made a foray into the field, sat behind his desk and made all these lovely little plans and precise timetables, and never saw any reason why anything should go wrong; well, after all, he'd written it out quite clearly, hadn't he?

She was right, she missed that next check-in, she missed the one after that as well, due to a flat tire, and of all things, no tire iron or jack in the trunk, not that that would have done any good since the spare was flat as well. She wanted to kick the silly thing, but figured breaking her toes wouldn't really improve the situation much. So she was back to walking, waiting for another opportunity.

By the time she reached Wagner's checkpoint, she was several check-in's past due, and Wagner's team was astonished at her arrival, not to mention her appearance, which was more than slightly bedraggled. If there had been time, she could have related the story behind every bruise, every smudge and tear, but there wasn't time, and really, the stories wouldn't have been all that engrossing.

They'd been told by her Handler the mission had been scrubbed, she was considered lost in action; when Wagner had suggested a recon to see what could be discovered, he'd been shocked at the very offhand, "no, don't bother. Things like this happen, you know. She mustn't have followed my instructions; they were quite clear, but you know how females can be. Shame we have to use them at all on these assignments, but what can you do?"

Wagner was for getting her out of the country, but she really wanted another try at that code book; she couldn't use the same con, certainly, but there might be another way. She'd just come back to report in and to collect what she'd need for another try. She knew security would be tighter if Madame had actually talked to anyone long enough for someone to realize this chance visitor was supposedly the same woman who'd been sleeping in their best guest room for some time now, and even if that hadn't happened, her sudden disappearance must have raised an alarm. She only hoped they'd think she made some romantic connection with one of the other guests and was off enjoying herself somewhere. She'd noticed certain irregularities in the household that might prove to her advantage; there seemed to be an awful lot of rearranging and shuffling of who was sleeping with whom, and a lot of others outside the household joining in the mix and match games.

She outlined what she intended to an incredulous Wagner, who would have thought she'd jump at the chance to get away from this, instead of plunging right back into it. But he complied, did as she asked, admiring her courage and determination, wished her luck, and she was gone again, this time in rather more reduced circumstances, on the back of a vegetable truck, to be precise. Following her instructions, when he got a followup call from her Handler, he reported he had no new information to give.

{"Well, that's true enough; I'm not inclined to give this fool any more information even if I have it!"} but when Kevin Richards contacted him, that was different. He'd always thought Richards to be a bit too strait-laced and prim for his own good, but he trusted him. Still, nothing to say this WAS Richards, so he made his own demands. Now, all he could do was carry on with his own operations, and wait.

"You'd be better off using the second window to the left, if you are looking for a general entrance, unless you have a specific target in mind," came as a whisper, and Lynn almost fainted at the familiar voice. She looked over her shoulder in disbelief. She opened her mouth, only to get a finger laid across her lips.

"Shsh, now. Business first," and a cocky grin rivaling her lover's crossing her face.

Lynn gave an inaudible chuckle, "code book SHOULD be in the safe, but I have my doubts. Kevisnger seems to be trying to memorize it; he's been taking it to bed with him, and falling asleep before he remembers to put it away." She turned back to watching the German official through the uncurtained windows of his office.

"Are you certain it's the real one, not a decoy, a trap?"

"Well, as sure as I can be. He seems to be enough of a fool to do just this, and in any case, I'm not sure how we'll know. There are three safe's that I found, and there may be more. He seems to have a liking for them, or rather his father did."

"Then, perhaps a small test, eh? Wait here, and watch, see where he heads." And with that the other woman was gone, and Lynn was left wondering if she had just imagined that conversation, the presence of the Dragon. Still, she was a good agent; she watched, and saw the butler summon Kevisnger to the phone, saw him pick up the receiver and straighten to attention, nodding his head frantically. He lay the receiver down and dashed to the second safe she'd found, the one behind the swing-out bookcase, bringing out a red leather bound notebook, talking rapidly into the receiver, and hanging up the phone. He sat down at the desk heavily, and poured himself what looked like a double shot of schnapps. He got up and made his way out of the room, book still in his hand. The light came on in his bedroom and he entered, and sat the book on the bedside table.

"Well?"

"Yes, he took it out of the safe, and after the call, took it up to his bedroom. How did you manage that?"

"Oh, just a call from his superior's secretary, asking for a confirmation of the last line on page three; they'd had a bit of an 'accident' with their copy and couldn't make it out," she got back with a hum of satisfaction.

"Now?"

"Well, what had you intended?"

"Thought to let him get to sleep and try a nab; he usually drinks enough to make it possible, and he even sleeps with the windows cracked most nights. No alarms that I can see, except for that base wire at the sill, and that can be bypassed fairly easily. Thing is, first con went south and I have no way of knowing if they've upped security; I haven't seen any sign of it, if they have."

"Well enough, but we both go, just in case, and I have something that can help if he starts to wake," patting her pocket.

Together they made their way up the side of the building, bypassed the alarm and Lynn slipped the little book into her jacket. Kevisnger started to move restlessly, come awake, and Meghada hurriedly dropped a dark linen square over his face; Lynn could smell the acrid chemicals from two feet away. Kevisnger inhaled deeply, starting to call out, but by then his lungs, his brain had already taken in enough for him to fall back under. They waited til it was safe to fold the square and put it back into its sealed packet. They made their way back out and down, reattaching the base wire alarm, leaving the window as he'd left it.

"If his superior has the code, won't they just change it once Kevisnger reports it missing? It seems a lot of effort for maybe a day or so of advantage; by the time we get this back, they'll likely have already switched to another code."

"True, if the goal was to get the code, but it isn't." And Lynn was getting a really bad feeling about this whole assignment.

"Oh?"

"No, my dear friend, the true objective was to discredit Kevisnger as an idiot who couldn't keep track of a simple code book or the intelligence or integrity to report it if it got stolen, and since he isn't going to report it right away, well, he wouldn't, would he, and that little cocktail I just gave him will ensure that, that only makes him look worst. The goal is to make an opening for one of our deep cover agents to move into his slot; he's next in line now, we just needed that fool out and gone. That's all in place, and I'll see to it that his superior finds out about Kevisnger's little bit of carelessness right away. He'll probably still be sleeping it off when they arrive to check. I gather your Handler didn't bother to explain any of that?" Lynn was furious, but contained herself til they made their way to a safer place before she exploded.

"Bloody hell NO he didn't explain any of that! I'd have fought to protect that code book, to get it back, and for nothing? Just stealing it and hiding it somewhere in the house would have worked as well, and would have been easier and safer!"

Meghada watched her, in full sympathy with her anger. She watched, expecting it, as Lynn turned to her, face still livid.

"You . . ." and she paused, inhaled, and then she shook her head, face relaxing, "sorry, no of course you didn't have anything to do with this. Sorry, just reaction."

And got a gentle laugh in return, "and understandable, for sure. No, I was working to set up the replacement, when I heard from that idiot back in London that the mission was scrubbed; managed to get the details, including just what you had and had not been told, and told our agent to stand by, stay in place since I thought we could still bring it off. Luckily, he trusts me a hell of a lot more than he trusts that fool, so he's waiting. Imagine we'll have nasty notes in our files by the time this is over. Oh, woe is me, I'm thinking they may have to get a bigger file folder for me," she said with a deep sigh, "last I saw it, it was getting rather bulgy," and Lynn snickered.

"Had nothing more interesting to do, so came to see if I couldn't give you a hand," she said in a highly casual voice.

"Mean you came to find me, and see if you couldn't get me home alive," came the quiet reply, complete with grateful eyes.

"Well, that too, of course. It's what family does, as I believe you told my laddie once."

They made a quick stop outside a small town, where Meghada went in alone, and managed the calls that let the game roll back into play. Then, they headed out.

It was on the way back to Wagner's encampment that they ran into trouble, and nothing they could have foreseen. Jerry patrol, a full ten men, had come thru the woods, and the women had dodged back up and into a small outcropping on the face of the cliff alongside to avoid them. Well, they avoided the patrol, well enough, and when enough time had passed to feel they were safe, they started to make their way down, when they heard the shots. The patrol had spotted, not them, but a deer. It seemed they all took part, though the deer was long gone over the peak; the shots reverberated in the air, and the cliff seemed to shudder beneath their feet, and rock dust rose from the surface.

They hurried to make their way down to the forest below, but the unstabilized surface gave way. Down they went in a barrage of rock and stone, as did the assorted small wildlife that lived in that section, including, MOST unfortunately for all, a rather nasty viper who was in a most foul frame of mind, along with his mate! He got in a couple of good bites, before the next mass of stone smashed him into jelly.

"Shit! . . .Shit! Shit! Shit!" and a bruised and battered Lynn realized she was repeating herself again. She opened her eyes to see a squashed snake at her nose and dodged back, stopping with a groan as she realized she had more rocks on her perhaps than under her. She took a deep breath, "Meghada? Meghada, are you alright?" to be met with only silence. The area was still hazy with the dust from the avalanche, but turning her head she could see the redhead laying a few feet away, not moving.

{"Uh oh, that's not good! She's usually like a Sorbo Ball, unsquashable, unbreakable, unbeatable. Well, guess even she can be taken down by a cliff falling on her!"}

She worked to get the rest of the rocks off her legs, and ascertained that, although she had a worlds load of bruises and several cuts, nothing seemed to be broken. She crawled over to Meghada, clearing away the smaller rocks and stones, and pushing to get the couple of large chunks off, trying to see the extent of the damage, and gulped at the long gash across the woman's lower back, and the odd twist to her right hip and leg. She turned her over gently, trying to check the other side, and saw the gaping shirt, blood, and the white of ribs showing through the gashes there.

{"She's still breathing; that's about the only good news that I can see,"} Lynn thought frantically. She looked around, not knowing what she was expecting to see, perhaps a first aid station, an ambulance, before shaking her head and bringing herself back to the situation at hand. The fall of the rocks had created a barrier, so they weren't immediately visible from the woods, but it wasn't a comfortable place. Still, she knew she couldn't move her friend without causing even more damage, and wasn't sure she could have moved her anyway, as beat up as she was herself. She did what she could to bandage the cuts, and crawled down to the tiny stream maybe ten feet away to get a drink, to wet a strip of cloth to drip into her friend's mouth, to bathe Meghada's face. It was coming along to sundown, and it was going to be a very long night.

***  
"Lynn was here AFTER they pulled the plug??!" A sigh of relief went through the group, but it was soon apparent that it was premature.

"Yes, but she headed back in for another try. I didn't tell her Handler that; she asked that I not, and truly it didn't seem wise considering his prior attitude. That was two days ago; I received radio confirmation that she was successful, and was headed back; I was expecting her back this morning. Odd, the message actually was, "WE'RE headed back in."

The guys exchanged a long look, "ya think 'Gaida met up with 'er?" came in a low, eager voice.

Richards considered, and replied, "I'd not be surprised; she was obviously intending to search for Lynn. If she found her, it would make sense to join forces. The question is, why are they not here by now?"

Wagner got out the maps, "you'll not be able to backtrack, not in the dark, but at first light, there are only two different ways they might have come without going up into the cliffs, which they would avoid if at all possible." And, although they all wanted to be out searching, NOW, they knew it wouldn't be any good, so they settled down, to be ready to move out at first light. They were praying Max would go for a fresh scent, not go trailing after the old one Lynn had left, but from the way the small dog kept lifting his head and scenting the wind, they had high hopes.

 

***  
It had, indeed, been a very long night. Meghada had regained consciousness only once, and during that brief period had ordered Lynn to leave, to get back to Wagner and get home, contact the Clan; told her things were arranged for something like this, provisions to help the guys, all in a low whisper.

"Tell him, I'm sorry; I didn't intend to leave him alone, I never meant. . ." and Lynn swallowed heavily.

"You can explain that to him yourself," only to get a faint flicker of a smile before her eyelids had dropped once more. By now Lynn wasn't sure she could make it back to Wagner anyway. She was feeling sick, nauseous, headachey, and her arm was swelling badly. She had been too battered to even feel the bite, but now, searching for the source of the swelling she saw the two tiny sets of fang marks.

"Wonderful! It just needed that! Frickin snake! Glad you got squished!" as she tried to get to the bites with her knife, but couldn't reach them. If Meghada had been conscious, maybe she could have managed, but that wasn't an option, not now. She tied off the upper arm with a strip from her shirt, trying to stay awake, knowing she'd need to release and retie periodically, but by morning, consciousness had left her. 

***  
That was how they found them, Lynn fevered, sweating, right arm swollen, tourniquet in place; Meghada unconscious, dislocated hip and knee, multiple gashes, some bone deep. Max had started going faster, then a trot, finally a dead out run across the clearing, to huddle close to the redhead, looking back as if urging the others to 'hurry, damn it!'

Later, when they were back in Wagner's camp, waiting for the transport to arrive, Casino looked at Richards, "this is pretty much later, Major. You were saying?"

And Richards looked at the two women bundled in blankets, moving restlessly, Goniff holding Meghada on his lap, him hunched over her, his forehead leaning against hers murmuring softly, Actor applying damp cloths to Lynn's forehead, talking to her in an equally low voice.

"Fielding, Major Darryl Constantine Fielding, US Army Intelligence."

Ian and Patrick were flying in; they'd take the two women back for medical treatment, along with Max. The others, well, there was still that research facility to infiltrate; they still had a job to do. But, when there was time, Major Darryl Constantine Fielding, USArmy Intelligence, well, there would be an accounting, that was for certain.

***  
"Patrick, I want to go HOME!!" It came out as a cross between a demand and a wail of despair.

"Yes, Sis, I know you do. And as soon as you can walk six steps without help, then you CAN! I've measured it out, with six solid steps you can get anywhere you want at the Cottage safely, in stages of course, as long as you stay inside, so as soon as you can do that, I'll release you. Til then, sit back and enjoy being waited on."

He ducked out the door quickly to avoid the book he could see coming his way, and he heard it thunk into the closed door as he leaned on the other side. Well, that would have told anyone just what she thought of sitting back and being waited on! He had purposely avoided telling her that he thought that those 'six steps' were still several weeks away; that gash across her back, the dislocated hip and knee, the fact that the viper's mate had gotten in a nice little nip of her own that had gone undiscovered til she got to the hospital, well that all had played havoc.

With a roll of his eyes and a muttered curse, he gave his opinion of his sister as a patient, and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the men coming down the hall. {"At least they'll provide her with a distraction for awhile!"} A pinafore-clad nurse intercepted them, telling them this was a private wing, no visitors, all the usual, and he called to her, "Nurse, it's all right. In fact, it's bloody well MORE than alright," hurrying forward to greet and shake hands. He knew who to address first, never mind rank.

"Goniff, better be warned before you go in there, she is in a foul mood. She wants to go home, and she wants to go now, and she just threw something at my head when I told her No."

And the Englishman looked at him doubtingly, "no offence, Patrick, but with 'er aim and all, you don't look too mussed!"

"Yes, well, her aim is a little off right now. I'll have to start being more cautious in a few days I imagine."

"Well, see, that's what I wanted to ask you. When CAN she come 'ome? Safely, I mean." The others were gathered around.

"I told her, when she can take six steps without help, so to be able to get from one place to the other in the Cottage, but I didn't tell her how long, and it's not going to be next week or anywhere like that!" but he stopped at the look he saw the Englishman giving the others.

"See guys, told you that's what 'e'd say," and turned back to Patrick. "And if she could get from one place to the other WITHOUT a full six steps? Could she leave then?? Go 'ome where she can rest in 'er own space?? You KNOW she'll do better there!"

His eagerness would have been amusing, if it weren't for the anxious look on his face. The protectiveness, the caring his sister felt for this slender mischief-maker, well it seemed to be reciprocated fully, Patrick was happy to see. Patrick looked at him, at the others.

"What is this? I know you guys, something's up," to get a laugh from Garrison.

"It was Casino's idea, and if we're wrong, she can lambast us when she's better for what we've done to the Cottage. But, since she suggested we set Lynn up in there to recuperate, with Mrs. Riley acting as visiting nurse, we've been busy. There are rails along the walls now, hand-high, and Casino drew out a small walker, with wheels, all the ones in the hospital are far too big to get through the doorways, and the local blacksmith built it, and it's working great for Lynn, so we had him build a wheel chair on the same scale. By the time Meghada's ready for a walker, Lynn won't need one anymore, so it'll be ready for her. The chair AND the walker, they're small enough to work in the Cottage, gets through all the doors. There's hand-holds or rails next to the bed, in the bath, anywhere we could think of. There's a little sloping ledge at both sides of the kitchen door, so she can use the chair to get out to the garden and back in when she likes, sit in the sun, get fresh air. Furniture's rearranged, not as pretty, but it works so she won't get hung up; Mrs. Riley is willing to take on a second patient if you release her, especially since Lynn doesn't really need much care right now, just more rest to rebuild her strength. They could drive each OTHER nuts instead of you! Whatta ya say, Doc, ready to get rid of this patient who throws things at you?"

Patrick looked at the grinning men, and a wide grin came across his own face.

"Do you want to tell her, or shall I?" not to surprised to see the grins increase and them flood into the room with loud greetings, and one eager voice, "Oi, luv, you ready to come 'ome then?? It's all ready, and Patrick says you can!" And when he stepped back into the room, the blond was already perched on the side of the bed, the redhead held tight in his arms, his head bent over the one nestled down against his chest.

"Guess she said yes?" he teased, getting laughs and quick assurances that indeed she had. And his sister looked her gratitude at him, "not my doing, Sis, they have everything arranged so I had no reason to say No. Think you'll like what you find," and just held up his hands at her questioning look. "No, let them tell you. I'll go take care of the paperwork, supplies, all that. We'll have you out of here within the hour, so just visit for awhile."

And he left, smiling, listening to them all talking at once, telling her of all the changes, everything set in place for her comfort. He hoped they would be around for awhile, not have to leave on a mission; it would help, he knew, if she wasn't worrying about them, and worry she would.

He'd never thought to see this; she was Dragon, and according to the Grandmother and the family records, a Dragon hadn't Bonded in, oh, however many generations. But there was no doubt in his mind or the family's; this was a true Bond, and if the little Englishman seemed an odd match for her, well, the Bondings didn't MAKE bad matches, so there was obviously a lot more to the man than he was willing to let anyone see. That wasn't for Patrick or anyone else to judge. In any case, he was hers, she was his; that was evident, and he pitied anyone who tried to get in the way of that. A Bonded Dragon, a Dragon in love, that she might be; but she was still a Dragon, when all was said and done.

***

He'd come bearing gifts: for her, a bottle of excellent bourbon, a stack of newly published books, a box of cookies, and a little round package wrapped in crumpled paper tied at the top with ribbon (a new red sorbo ball, as a reminder how she was SUPPOSED to come home!); for Lynn, a bottle of excellent white wine, some new sheet music, a box of chocolates, and a rubber plant in a big pot, with a big metal ant perched at the base (for which he had a good explanation, really, along with a rather involved story of how he'd managed to convince the store owner to sell him the prop and why!); and for both of them, some news.

She was ensconced in a big chair in the sitting area wearing a long soft coppery colored dress, with buttons running from the shirtwaist neck to the ankle-length hem, quite attractive, and not revealing by any means, but with an air of the boudoire that he found slightly disturbing. Perhaps it was that her hair, instead of being in that tight coronet as usual, was pulled loosely to one side and tied, only partly braided, the rest flowing to her waist. Lynn was perched on the piano bench in trousers and shirt, much to his relief. At least that was a familiar sight, one not so . . .

He looked at both of them carefully, having come in after having read the note on the door, "If you are on the first list below, Welcome, and come in. If you are on the second list below, Go To Bloody Hell! If you are NOT on EITHER list, knock, call our your name and business, and We'll See." He read the lists and laughed out loud. Thankfully, his name was on the first list, an extremely short one he noted and felt he should feel honored, so he stepped into the kitchen, and said, "it's Kevin Richards, are you decent?" to get a snort and an outright laugh, "well, not that anyone's ever said, but don't let that stop you. Come along in, Kevin, we're in the sitting room!"

Lynn was looking much her usual self, perhaps a bit pale, but otherwise you wouldn't have known she'd been ill. Meghada, she looked worn, drawn; he couldn't say 'tired', he'd seen her tired to the point of exhaustion before, and this was different. He thought of Ophelia, the Lady of Shallot. He now better understood just how close a call this really had been.

She caught his expression and gave him a wry grin, "don't look so worried; I'll be fine, just a bit shaky yet." To which Lynn gave a dubious look, and Richards took in the small wheelchair next to where she sat.

She glared at it, but then admitted with a laugh, "yes, I hate having to use it, but it's what let me come home when I did, instead of going crazy in hospital for weeks more. The guys had it made special, like they did Lynn's walker, which I hope to start using soon, and you can see all the work they did to make the Cottage safe for us." Now that she'd said something, he noticed the way the furniture allowed for the walker and the chair to have complete mobility, the handrails attached to the walls, the grips next to the chairs; the rugs had been taken up, presumable moved to storage for now. {"They went to a lot of bother with this,"} then remembered them caring enough to be looking for her in the first place, insisting on answers, setting up the rescue; he remembered their reaction when they'd found her and Lynn, the pickpocket holding her so carefully, talking to her constantly, how they'd watched that plane taking the two back home; he now realized they would have gone after her even if Lynn hadn't been involved. {"I knew she and the team had met, were friendly; I never realized before they were much more than that."}

He saw Lynn watching him, a knowing smile on her face, but also a warning. {"But exactly what is she warning me about? Well, I suppose I'll find out sometime, hopefully before I step off that bridge!"}

He turned at a brisk cheery call from the garden. "Oi, and 'ave you escaped your castle walls, and gone off to fight another battle, or do I find you within, my Dragon?" and the little English pickpocket came bounding in, arms full of flowers from the garden. He saw Richards and flushed deeply, "didn't know you were 'ere, Major. Good trip down, eh?" turning before he could get an answer. "Usual vases for these, 'Gaida?" to get a grin and a nod. "Lynn, the Warden says 'e'll pick you up in an 'our, give you a bit of an outing at the pub, 'im and the guys, just an 'our or so not to tire you out. I'll stay with 'Gaida."

Richards frowned at the eager look in the redhead's eyes, {"I can understand Lynn being excited by that, but why her? And she doesn't look like she'd have to have someone nursemaid her if Lynn's just going to be gone for an hour or so, and it doesn't seem likely for any of those guys to give up a night of drinking either, especially Goniff!"} and started to speak up, just to catch the dire warning in Lynn Garrison's eyes.

"That sounds wonderful; Kevin, are you heading back to London right away or can you join us at the pub for a drink first?" Somehow he knew if he volunteered to stay with Meghada, he'd have more than just Lynn annoyed with him, given the look Meghada was giving him. He sent a considering look into the kitchen, where the slight blond was tucking flowers rather haphazardly into a few different vases, placing them here and there, like each had its own established home, like he had no doubt where each of those homes were, either. When that was done, suddenly the pickpocket reappeared in the sitting room, pill bottle and a small glass in his one hand, and a tiny spray of white flowers in the other, tucking the flowers into her braid as he was speaking.

"I'm guessing you 'aven't taken these yet?" with a stern look on his face, but a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"You know I hate taking those! They make me all cranky." She looked up at him sharply, as if expecting a smart remark, only to get a wide grin and a look of real sympathy in his eyes.

"Yes, luv, I know, but Patrick says just another couple of days; then, if there's no more sign of infection, you can leave off. Come on then; take these now, I'm allowed to fix you a nice glass of something a bit stronger later. And you know I can 'andle your moods, even 'cranky'," he coaxed, and there was something in the look they exchanged that was starting to make Kevin Richards very nervous.

{"Surely not! I know they have no sense where men are concerned, but even so . . ."}

Once the pills were taken, the man made no attempt to leave, much to the Major's displeasure, but just settled down crosslegged on the floor at her knees. {"For all the world like a spaniel!"} Richards snorted to himself, but something in the measuring look he was getting from Garrison's pickpocket, well, it wasn't very spaniel-like; Richards found himself thinking, {"all attentive, protective,"} his eyes widening as he realised what he was seeing, {"possessive!"}.

He started to say something, but he caught Meghada's eye, and well, her gaze wasn't very spaniel-like either. The Dragon was back, at least in spirit, and he busied himself with entertaining Lynn with the news about Major Darryl Constantine Fielding, her FORMER Handler. Major Fielding had been pulled from his position, it being deemed he didn't seem to have the temperment for it; perhaps he would be re-evaluated, after he mended. Seems he'd run into a wall or something; certainly looked like it by all accounts; broken nose, two black eyes, if his jaw wasn't broken, well that at least seems to have been an accident, that it WASN'T broken, that is, and he was walking most carefully. Garrison swore he and his men had NOT played the part of the wall, and there was no proof otherwise. He cocked an eyebrow at her, to receive a cold smile in return.

"Well, hopefully the re-evaluation comes out right."

He let the subject drop, "and as for you two, you have now made history at HQ. You are the only two to ever receive official reprimands AND official commendations for the very same actions on the very same mission. It's quite the talk around the hallways. The clerks are having rather a heyday, discussing whether to add one to each list, or whether the two cancel each other out entirely." The two women looked at each other and wanted to laugh, but the thought of being reprimanded for doing the job they'd been sent to do? Well, that pissed them off.

Goniff was taking it in stride, "well, when you 'ave them that ain't out there making the calls, it's bound to 'appen. Start listening to officers, gonna get yourselves killed if yer not careful," then realizing there was one of those officers in the room, he grinned, "present company excepted?" but the measuring look in his eye, well, Richards remembered all too well when he'd put this man, his teammates at mortal risk, not leveling with them, and he flushed a little at the memory.

"So, Lynn, ya need me ta give ya a 'and with anything afore the guys get 'ere?" he offered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Lynn laughed, "no, thank you, I can manage," and manage she did, moving carefully from the piano bench to the library behind her where she was occupying the Murphy bed these days. The curtain drew across the entrance and the three were left alone.

"Get you a drink, Major?" came from the other Englishman, a significant change in the tenor of his voice, the set of his face, not quite the cheerful clown he'd been a minute ago, more in command, rather as if he was host here, not fellow guest; somehow Richards felt that was the impression, the message that was being given, and wondered again just what the woman had gotten herself into.

"Thank you, yes," and watched him pop to his feet easily and stride into the kitchen. "Meghada . . ."

And in a low, very sincere voice, "if you are going where I think you are, Kevin, don't bother. I could repeat all that Caeide's said to you over the years, but I'd prefer not. Just sit, talk to us, wait for the others. Have a drink at the pub with them, head back to London. Do NOT think to interfere in my life; I assure you I will not take it as calmly as Caeide has. Those lists on the door; for now you are on the first list, and welcome there; don't go out of your way to make the second list, please."

And he knew that to be best for now; it didn't mean he wouldn't try again, and keep trying, but he did know he wasn't dealing with patient, resigned Caeide here. {"Well, surely she'll come to her senses when she's back to herself. Then it will be obvious even to her that this is ridiculous!"} They were chatting about Ian and the airplane when Goniff brought the Major his drink, and were on to something else when Lynn rejoined them. All seemed quite relaxed and amiable when Garrison and the rest of the team arrived, loud and in good spirits, and Lynn and the Major left in a flurry of crossed comments. 

Goniff moved to pour each of them a glass of bourbon.

"We're gonna 'ave trouble with 'im, aren't we, luv??" Goniff asked matter of factly.

"Of course, that's just Kevin, but it won't make any difference, just fuss and fury, we're up to that, aren't we?" she replied, with just a hint of apprehension, and the warm smile on his face reassured her.

"That we are, luv, that and as much more as comes," and he gathered her in his arms, both grateful for the chance, after it had seemed so close to being lost. He also spared a thought for what a nice thing buttons were, especially on this dress, running all the way . . .


End file.
